


Utterly Impossible

by noveltea



Category: Sherlock (BBC)
Genre: AU, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, F/M, genderbender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noveltea/pseuds/noveltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Lestrade/any, why he never bothers with ties anymore</p>
            </blockquote>





	Utterly Impossible

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of these characters.
> 
> I also totally blame Medie for Jen Watson invading my brain. :D

Jen runs her fingers over the silken ties that she's found in a box hidden away in the wardrobe in Lestrade's closet.

"What are you doing?"

She looks up, spots him watching her from the bedroom doorway and she's aware that her smile is a little more than sheepish. "I don't suppose a simple 'sorry' would suffice?"

He just shakes his head and watches her intently. "I think he's rubbing off on you," he tells her, and there's no need to explain who 'he' is. Sherlock Holmes. Her flat-mate, Lestrade's consulting detective.

Jen stands and crosses the floor, bringing her hands to rest on the open collar of his shirt. He's getting ready for the day. Black suit, white shirt. No tie.

His very own uniform.

"I'm honestly not sure whether that was intended to be a compliment or an insult," she murmured.

"I can assure you, Doctor Watson," he says, looking at her with the same longing look in his eyes that started this relationship, "that I would never insult your character." He proves his point with a kiss that's tender, one she might even consider heartfelt – that was, if she was inclined to such romantic notions, which quite often she's not.

"Oh, well, that's alright then," she says, breaking the kiss. "I'm sorry for snooping around then."

"Sometimes it's easier just to ask questions, rather than try to figure it out on your own."

It's a subtle point - one that she's started to forget about since working with Sherlock. She'd always been one to ask questions. It was why she'd chosen a medical profession – she asked questions, listened and solved problems.

Jen tugged lightly at his open collar. "I've never seen you wear a tie," she says suddenly, the question implicit in her comment.

He smiles and it's another reason why she's here. Longing looks, gorgeous smile, and a refreshingly normal sense of self.

"No, I don't suppose you have," he replies cryptically, kissing the tip of her nose and stepping away to retrieve his jacket. He's not answering because she didn't ask the question.

She'd never thought herself one for pouting, but she'd pretty sure that's what she's doing now. She could play the game with him - he's baiting her after all – or she could just swallow her pride and admit she's a human as he is and ask a simple question.

She's never been one for games.

"If you don't wear them, why do you have so many?" she asks finally.

He shrugs. "I used to wear them. And many of them were gifts. It feels wrong to get rid of them."

He's attempting to straighten his clothes, and she tries to picture him wearing one of his many ties. Somehow the image doesn't come bidden as easily as she would have imagined. She's so used to the open shirt collar (so used to unbuttoning the shirt) that she can't reconcile the image of such a formal look on him.

She leans against the wall and watches him pretend to ignore her watching him. "Why don't you wear them any more?" She's more than curious now. It's such a normal conversation, one any couple might have, and it's taken her time to peel back the layers of Detective Inspector Lestrade that she can't help but delight in such simple information.

He stops, watching her as intently as she's watching him. "Why the sudden curiousity?"

It's her turn to shrug; she doesn't really have an answer, after all. "I don't know."

He takes her hand, pulling her away from the wall. "Well, then, I don't really know then, either," he teases.

She punches his arm lightly. "I can't help it if I'm curious about you."

"I know." Another kiss, as though he's trying to placate her, but she knows that's not it because it's never worked on her before. At least, that's what she tells him. "It's one of your charms."

He pulls her over to the bed, sitting her on the edge. "I wore one for years," he told her finally. "But there comes a point when it feels more like a noose than an accessory."

She doesn't have an answer for that; but it's honest and somewhat fitting. She smiles, just a little. "Thank you."

He smiles, and the nod of his head turns into a shake.

She still has his hand in hers and she uses it to pull him closer, pull him down onto the bed with her, despite his protests of, "I'm going to be late."

This time her smile isn't little, and it's more than a little mischievous. "I don't care," she says, trying to kiss away his protests.

His efforts to stop her are half-hearted. At best. "You are _impossible_ , sometimes."

She laughs. "Admit it, its part of my appeal."

"Utterly impossible."


End file.
